


Alight

by evilwriter37



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, but also not an orgasm, crowley has an orgasm, idk how to tag this, kind of a lemon???, weird preternatural sex thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 22:16:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19450579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/pseuds/evilwriter37
Summary: Crowley is having a bad day and Aziraphale has just the angel trick up his sleeve to make him feel better… and give him something akin to an orgasm.





	Alight

Crowley was, strictly speaking, not in the greatest of moods. He’d slept, because sleeping was a thing he enjoyed doing, but he’d had nightmares. Then he’d woken to find the cottage empty, and a note from Aziraphale simply saying that he’d gone out, but he hadn’t said where or when he’d be back.

So, Crowley did what he was good at and moped about it and glowered at anything he deemed even slightly inconvenient. It really had been a truly awful dream, and he didn’t quite know how to ease himself down from it. There was a part of him worrying if it had been something more than a dream.

He was half-watching  _ The Graham Norton Show _ , some interview with two actors that slightly resembled him and Aziraphale, (though the one who looked closest to him sounded nothing like him - he was Scottish), when the front door opened.

“Crowley, I’m home!” Aziraphale called. It sounded like he put some sort of parcel down on the kitchen counter.

Crowley waved his hand to turn off the TV, then stood and slunk his way into the kitchen. The sunshine from the windows did nothing to improve his mood, though seeing Aziraphale certainly did.

“Where have you been?” he snipped.

“Farmer’s market,” Aziraphale answered. He opened the parcel he’d put on the counter, pulled a large, ripe tomato from it. “Look how excellent these look!”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “We don’t  _ need _ to buy food.” Neither of them had to eat either, but they both liked to indulge in that human function.

“It tastes better this way,” Aziraphale protested. He set the tomato on the counter, and then suddenly it was gone, and the paper bag looked quite empty. It was all in the fridge by now. He tilted his head a little. “You look quite disgruntled. Whatever is the matter?”

“Bad dream,” Crowley explained. He leaned forward with two hands on the counter, shook his head. He hadn’t even bothered to make himself appear ready for the day, was still in his black silk pajamas with his hair all mussed. 

“That bad? I was expecting to come home to find you dressed to the nines and yelling at your houseplants again, which is something you really shouldn’t do. The poor things don’t deserve it.” His last words sounded very pouty.

Crowley shook his head. “You’re getting off topic.” 

“Right, sorry.” Aziraphale came around the counter to stand by him. His presence was comforting. “What was it about?”

“Hell. They… came after me again,” Crowley said. “The tortures they had for me made me wish I was mortal.”

Aziraphale gently touched his back. “Heaven and Hell have been silent since the switch,” he reminded him. “And if anyone does come after you they’ll have me to deal with.”

Crowley wanted to object to that, but he just tightened his lips. He and Aziraphale were good at getting into trouble together, but he didn’t want his partner being hurt because of him.

“Come on,” Aziraphale said, waving his hand towards the hallway. “I have just the thing to make you feel better.”

Crowley snorted as he followed behind him. “Lettuce you bought from a human that came out of the ground? No thank you.”

Aziraphale shot a look at him over his shoulder, telling him to take this seriously, so Crowley decided not to make anymore cynical jokes. Aziraphale was good at his hard stares.

They came to their bedroom, the bed unmade and pillows on the ground, but in the blink of an eye it was fixed, the pillows arranged neatly and the sheet and the deep blue comforter pulled up and straightened. Aziraphale was taking off his shoes.

“Sex?” Crowley asked. That was one of the things the bedroom was used for.

Aziraphale sat cross-legged on the bed. “No,” he answered. “We don’t need sex to get the feelings of it.” He patted the spot in front of him. “Lay here on your back and put your head in my lap.”

Crowley wasn’t quite sure what Aziraphale planned on doing. He’d been an angel much,  _ much  _ longer than he ever had, so he most certainly knew certain tricks that he didn’t. Curious now, Crowley did as Aziraphale had said, settling himself comfortably with his head in his lap. Even just that tempted a small smile to his lips. It was nice to have physical contact with Aziraphale. It was something he’d been so starved of for millennia. 

Aziraphale placed his fingertips at Crowley’s temples. “Now just let me know if you want me to stop.”

“Mm-hm,” Crowley confirmed, closing his eyes.

He gasped quite loudly when it started.  _ It _ was intense feelings of pleasure all over his body, like his nerves were tingling and singing. He shifted, sighed, moaned. 

“Aziraphale,” he got out breathlessly.

“Do you need me to stop?”

“No, please don’t.” His voice was desperate. His nerves were flashing signals of pleasure and goodness to his brain, singing with it. It was a hum of energy all through his body, like the vibrations through a woodwind instrument and the buzz of electricity through wires. He idly thought that it was like sex but everywhere. 

“ _ Fuck _ .” Crowley’s fingers twitched, then clenched the comforter. His toes were curling and he felt his eyes rolling. He moaned loudly, just let his mouth hang open so he could suck in air that he didn’t even need. He just did it out of habit. 

Then Aziraphale began stroking his temples, and Crowley’s body jolted as if he’d been shocked, a cry leaving his parted lips. It felt like his nerve endings had been singed, but in a good way. And then they were tingling and becoming alight and sparking again. His brain was absolutely bursting, flashes like fireworks exploding deliciously in his skull, white streaking across the backs of his closed eyelids. All he could do was pant and moan and desperately clutch the sheets.  _ Heaven _ , this felt so good.

He could sense the things his brain was doing in response: producing serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin, endorphins, all of the absolutely excellent things that he felt like he hadn’t gotten enough of in his very long existence. It was reacting the same way it did to an orgasm, which made sense given that this felt like a full body one. He was sure his skin would be sensitive to touch. 

Another one came soon after it, and Crowley writhed in ecstasy. He brought one hand up to grip at Aziraphale’s wrist, though he just wanted to anchor himself to him, didn’t want him to stop.

“Oh, please,  _ please. _ ” Crowley didn’t want Aziraphale to take his touch as a sign to stop. This was too wonderful.

Luckily, Aziraphale didn’t misinterpret anything as asking for it to end, continued stroking his fingers over his temples in circles, shocking him through with pleasure he’d never felt up until a few minutes ago. Had it been minutes? Crowley couldn’t tell. What was time in all of this? Why should it matter?

The sensation of another orgasm, and Crowley shouted out his bliss, gripping tight at Aziraphale’s wrist. Every circuit in his body was white-hot and radiant with ecstasy. He almost felt like someone would be able to hear it if they listened close enough, hear the ringing and humming of the pleasure.

The peak went higher, and he crested it again, unable to find his breath. He was about to tell Aziraphale that it was too much, that the bliss was turning into torment because it was too perfect to endure. Aziraphale seemed to sense this however, and the ringing in his nerves began to die down. Crowley was able to loosen, settle himself better. Gradually, the pleasure faded into simply a background hum, and then nothing at all. The silence in his body was deafening. He was gasping for breath.

“How was that?” Aziraphale asked, removing his fingers from his temples.

Crowley opened his eyes, looked up at him. He didn’t feel like moving at the moment. Satisfaction and contentment encased his body, making him lazy. 

“That’s a stupid question,” Crowley told him airily.

“Is it? Well, then how are you feeling? Better?”

Crowley closed his eyes again, smiled, very happy to be here with his head in Aziraphale’s lap. This was all he wanted at the moment, all he needed.

“Better.”


End file.
